Nights Awake 2.0

This is the latest generation of the NightsAwake program. The program was begun in 2002 by LJ, Luke, Frost and Xerox (Third), as an outlet for people online all night, every night. The Project is a creative outlet only, and one has already been closed because of bitching and flaming. Please keep this a creative place. Accepted formats are: Prose, narrative, or verse. Please do not directly reference any person living or dead. Be wise, be courteous, and above all, be cool.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

Past Curfew

"I don't think we can continue like this much longer," the interrogator said frankly.

Across the table, Marin spat to clear the blood from his mouth. "Yeah," he replied hoarsely, "you're probably right. So lay off and please... just ask me something. Anything."

The interrogator only stared across the table. His wrist tilted up and down, tapping the hard plastic truncheon against the thick, varnished wood. One tap a second, for fifteen seconds. And then, on the sixteenth second, with a snap of the interrogator's wrist, the truncheon flipped through the air and thudded into Marin's eye. Marin yelped in surprise and pain, cringing as best he could. The handcuffs binding him to the folding chair rattled as he flinched against them.

"Answer the question!" bellowed the interrogator, standing suddenly. His chair groaned backwards across the concrete, rocking as it hit the floor drain.

"What question? You haven't said-"

"Your blood screen came back before I came in here," the interrogator said in a calm, even voice. "You're psychic. I know you can read my mind, so read."

Marin shuddered at the sudden change in tone. He lifted his head slowly, leveling a swollen eye at the tall, thick man in uniform across from him. "I'm not a telepath."

The interrogator stood quite still for a moment, then walked, step by step, across the room, to retrieve his truncheon. "Psychics have a strict curfew, and you did not have a pass. You were completely unauthorized to be out." He stooped and picked up the plastic club.

"Please, I'm-"

"I'm going to ask one more time. You'd better listen, and answer carefully."

From outside the sound-insulated room, there came sounds of a commotion. The interrogator's eyes glanced to the door, but quickly refocused on Marin.

Marin turned and stared at the door. Distractedly, he said, "I'm not a telepath."

The interrogator tightened his grip. "Sounds like you wanna waive your last chance."

And then, Marin heard it clearly. We're here, said the voice. Now.

"Finally," Marin said, and glared at the interrogator. The truncheon, as though shoved by invisible hands, leapt upward and rammed into the uniformed man's jaw. He stumbled backwards into the table, and the truncheon flew from his hand and around behind him. It spun viciously, clubbing the interrogator's shoulders and neck until he buckled and fell.

The weakest link of the chain of Marin's handcuffs split, and Marin stood. The truncheon clattered to the ground, and Marin gritted his teeth. Moaning aloud, the interrogator hovered off the floor, hands raised to defend himself. Marin rubbed his head with one hand and pointed at the interrogator with the other.

"Not a telepath," he said. And with a snap of his wrist, the man in uniform hurtled out of the unbarred window, scattering glass on the interrogation room floor. He did not scream.

Come on, Marin. We need you out here.

Marin stared at the jagged windowpane until he heard the thump. Then, he beckoned to the door, which opened to him. He stepped out of the interrogation room, to join the revolt.

Sunday, January 16, 2005

Parrrrtay!

Here's a game Breyean, Lieselmunky and The First Mate thougt up at Rick's Dessert Diner: You're planning a party, and you can invite any five people, who may bring someone with them, and can include one mixer/gate crasher. Celebrities, fictional characters, friends of yours, whatever, just try not to re-invite anyone, because that's just awkward. The only rule is: make it ten-four hard-core cool. These parties are taking place in Tortuga, on seperate floors of the same building, but all of them share a single bathroom.
Because they were already on another blog, i posted the original three parties.

Liam is Inviting:
Shadow (From American Gods) [Brought Sam]
Siddhartha Gotama (The OB, Original Buddha) [Brought Jesus, but as Krishna's Avatars, to cover his bases.]
Isaac Newton (Will sulk with a book under the punch table; will only come out if Aristotle shows up, so he can heckle him, or if someone smart enough to talk to asks him to.)
Ludwig Van Beethoven [Brought Tarja Turunen, from Nightwish: will sing some of his pieces when the punch gets spiked)
Ender Wiggin [Brought Bean, who will end up talking to Newton]
His mixer is: Nicholas LeSangeur

Wednesday, January 05, 2005

The Sound of Silence

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dare
Disturb the sound of silence.

"Fools" said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets
are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls."
And whisper'd in the sounds of silence.

the above song is by Simon and Garfunkel (who knew?)
any ways i dod not know why but this song when i first herd it in art history 300
hit me on menny drifent levels
any ways i was wondering if i could find a host if maybe i could phost some of my picsure on here with the admins aprovel of couse
will here to my firstt phost